


Not Notting Hill

by thesumofus



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, closing the age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesumofus/pseuds/thesumofus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a superb night out Med Student, Douglas Richardson, decides to indulge the whim that picking up his text books from the local bookshop mightn't be such a bad idea.<br/>And he is rewarded for his sensible behavior, with the oddly charming store clerk, Martin Crieff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Notting Hill

The tinkle of the bell above the door makes Martin grievously tear his eyes off his flight manual. He looks up, broad, welcoming smile plastered upon his face to be wiped away as he catches eye of his next potential customer.

The young man walking through the door looks as if he is bringing the sultry, summer air of a moonlit walk in Paris along with him. His jacket lies, hung over one shoulder pegged on two fingers, a couple of buttons are pointedly left undone on his wrinkly white shirt and his dark, mahogany hair flops over his forehead like each strand is placed strategically where they'll be most appreciated. He looks disheveled, unkempt, mischievous.

His eyes graze over shelves as he makes his way to Martin's desk, lazily putting one foot in front of the other.

The man stops before Martin and looks to his face, smiling widely.

'Hel-lo' he says with a lilt of surprise as if he knows Martin or is mildly taken aback by his presence.

Martin finds himself blushing stupidly, he does not know this man.

"Morning, may I-err, help you?" He asks dutifully. Unable to maintain eye contact he directs the question at the clock, beside the man's head.

"Yes, you may. What's the time?"

The question is not one Martin expects and he looks at his wrist automatically only to remember he isn't wearing a watch, to look back up at the clock beside the man's head.

"Uh, seven." He informs the man, noticing he is now wearing a small, bemused smile.

"I thought it was later" He says back sounding so much like he is talking to himself that Martin begins to wonder in a panic whether he should reply or not.

"You're open a tad early for a bookshop." He adds after a moment.

"Oh, um we just get a lot of students well we only get students really or people from the uni and they all need text books and it's always urgently even though their professors put it on the reading list months ago it's imperative that they get it on the morning of their exam and no later so yeah, we open at 7." 

Martin blinks curiously at his own wee outburst. Having not an inkling of an idea of where it came from. The bitterness of his tone making it sound as if he is jealous of the carefree students and their irresponsible book buying habits. Maybe he is jealous, he didn't think he was.

The man merely laughs. Not too loud and forced, just naturally the right amount and it overcomes Martin's embarrassment and fills him with the desire to make it happen again.

"Fair enough. I'm a student too, although I don't usually come in at 7 and seeing on this occasion I wasn't even aware of the time try not to hate me too much." 

"I don't think I could hate you." admits Martin and he presses his lips together to counter any follow-up outburst as his cheeks turn red and his head fills with thoughts of self-loathing.

The man laughs again although dryly and he looks at Martin dubiously. 

"You wouldn't say that if you knew me." 

He says this like he's teasing Martin with his bad-boy persona but Martin catches a grain of truth beneath the remark as eyebrows tilt downwards and a corner of a lip curls in disgust. Yet, it's gone in an instant.

"Um, so was it just the time you needed?" Martin, keen to get the conversation back on familiar ground

"No, believe it or not I actually entered this bookshop in the hope of purchasing some books. The time thing was a mere lead up to the main event." Says the man. Grasping at the opportunity to be less accidentally sincere and more sarcastic.

"Right... Now is there.. do you want a-a particular book?"

"Ah, cracker question! I must admit I had my doubts but I see now you're most eligible for this job. As it is, I have an order of text books that should be in."

It takes Martin a few seconds too many to sift through the teasing to realize it was his turn to respond.

"Oh right, um I'll need your name, to check the order."

"Right you are, Douglas Richardson."

Martin awkwardly gestures to the door to the store room before he makes his hasty escape, this man was too much for him first thing, Saturday morning.

He beelines to the shelf where the orders to be collected, are kept and it doesn't click until he sees the name in black and white, garnishing the parcel within his hands, Douglas Richardson.

He has heard that name before. 

Martin hadn't been in Oxford a full year but he had managed to gleam a near-thorough understanding of the place. The majority of his friends being students and the majority of students know 2nd year, Med student Douglas Richardson. 

Douglas Richardson was popular, desirable and confident and, Martin unknown to himself, had been keeping tabs on him. He wasn't really sure why, he didn't even notice he did it most the time. Yet, every Pub outing with his mates from the agricultural college, his ears would prick up at the mention of that name. And it was mentioned a lot. Martin could fill an airplane with all the rumors he knew about Douglas, which was saying something seeing as rumors didn't even exist in a physical state.

Heavy parcel in hand he went back through the store where Douglas was patiently waiting, reading his flight manual.

"I'm guessing you don't read this for leisure?" He asks as Martin re-enters, eyes still concentrated on the page

"Um no, it's for- I'm training to be a Pilot." Martin replies, a tad defensively

"What, really? I'd-a never guessed" Douglas says looking up to give Martin a wink while pushing the heavy manual back to Martin's side of the desk.

"Um yeah, I have your order." 

Martin holds up the parcel feeling as dumb as he must look.

"So you do." Douglas rebuts with a singularly raised eyebrow

Yup, that confirms it. He's acting like a complete dunce in front of Douglas Bloody Richardson.

"I guess, um do you want to pay for it-?" Martin quivers uneasily as Douglas get's a crafty look in his eyes.

"That depends, does this establishment permit stealing?" 

"Err-no."

"Right. Bit of a drag but I'll suppose I'll pay." 

Douglas looks expectantly at the rather shell-shocked cashier and holds out a banknote.

Martin takes the money and begins to sort the correct change. It's silent for a second save for the jingling of coins in Martin's hands.

"I wouldn't you know." Martin says quietly, eyes concentrated on counting.

"Huh?" 

Douglas is nonplussed for the first time since entering the store.

"Hate you, if I knew you." Is the entirety of Martin's explanation.

Martin looks up into Douglas's eyes, the older man slightly unnerved by the sincerity there as his money is tipped into his outstretched hand.

"You don't know me though." 

It comes out as a predatory growl which Douglas can't recall deciding to use.

Martin gives Douglas his best animal in the headlights impression, shaken by his customers sudden defensiveness, before stuttering out "I've um, I've heard of you."

He expects him to be confronted or awkward, not flattered, yet Douglas hides it well with a faux surprised look as he falls back to his safety net, humor.

"No? Yet, we haven't had the pleasure" He replies, gesturing between them "Are you a student then, when your not selling books to them?"

"Uh no, I just spend time with some blokes at the ah, agricultural college."

"Right, you might know Jerry then?" 

A picture of a boisterous, blonde man who refuses to shut up about irrigation systems whenever he is pissed, which is a large quantity of the time, comes into mind at the mention of the name.

"Uh yeah, yeah Jerry. He's a mate, well not really a mate. We've hung out, well not hung we-we know each other."

The bemused smile has made a reappearance to Douglas's lips. Somehow, he finds the young man's pandering oddly charming.

At this revelation another less innocent thought comes into Douglas's mind and he falls into a familiar routine.

"Look, I feel terribly, awful about this but I've got a lecture in a bit and I don't fancy lugging these books 'round campus so is there anyway you might be able to deliver them to my flat?"

"Uh we don't usually- but I could... I mean yeah I don't mind dropping them off. It'll be no trouble."

"Oh you don't do deliveries, forget it then. I don't want to make more work for you."

"I don't mind, really."

"Well if your sure?" 

The words make it sound as if he's apprehensive of Martin going to too much trouble yet the smile on the man's face says no such thing.

After reaffirming that he really didn't mind Martin takes down Douglas's address and puts it in the desk along with the parcel. 

"I'll bring that round later then." Confirms Martin, giving the older man a polite smile and a chance to escape. They had been talking a lot longer than customary vender/buyer banter.

But Douglas, to Martin's surprise, refuses all such notion of making away with a free book delivery.

"Look, I feel miserable about putting you out of your way. How about I get you a drink tonight? Say, around 7?"

It isn't in character for Douglas to worry over rejection but he finds himself doing just that as Martin pauses in his reply, face steadily reddening.

"Th-That'd be nice."

Douglas hides his relief in a charming smile before he turns to make his leave. Yet he stops, hand poised on the door handle for his parting remark

"Don't forget the books!"

Martin nods back studiously as if insulted by Douglas's lack of faith in his aptitude as a store clerk which makes Douglas chuckle to himself. A lighthearted feeling which sticks around as he joins the throng of the street, shucking his jacket on against the cold, excited by the prospects drinks tonight may bring.

It isn't until long after the tinkle of the bell has singled Douglas's exit and the beaming smile on Martin's face has lessened a bit, albeit by not a lot, that he realizes that today is Saturday and there was to be no lectures on. 

Oh well, Martin thinks to himself, such details are irrelevant. After all, he has got a date with Douglas Richardson.


End file.
